


Daylight Breaks

by marginalia



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Community: contrelamontre, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-27
Updated: 2003-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-07 22:13:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10370814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginalia/pseuds/marginalia
Summary: Contrelamontre, quick!fic (story takes place over a very short period of time.) Sort of a sequel toRules of the Dark.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Contrelamontre, quick!fic (story takes place over a very short period of time.) Sort of a sequel to [Rules of the Dark](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10369908).

Miranda sat on the front step, arms folded, head bowed. She couldn't be in the house any longer, couldn't stand it, couldn't sit there in the living room flipping channels as if nothing had changed.

The sun glowed down on her, melting her harsh borders. She focused on her breathing. Slow. Deep. In. Out. Resisted the temptation to look at her watch. He'd be there soon.

_Can you?_  
Of course. Hold on.  
I'm glad you live so close. 

She could trust him to be there, to say what needed to be said and nothing more, to not ask questions, to not be too nice, because he knew if he was too nice she would cry. He didn't mind if she cried, but he knew she would mind terribly. She needed to be in control, and he could let her so long as she needed it.

Breathe. In. Out. She focused on her hands, stretched out her fingers - jazz hands - and permitted herself a small smile. She could do this. She could be strong. She wouldn't hurt herself, not now, not over this. Not when she had come so far.

_It's been coming for a while, hasn't it?  
I. I suppose. We don't talk. I don't sleep._

Every sound from the house made her start. Please, god, don't let her follow me out here. Don't let her talk. If she talks . . .

 _She talks in her sleep. Not to me. Last night she talked about the raspberry king._  
He laughed. _The raspberry king?  
I don't know either._

Miranda reached up into the sky, stretching her arms slowly, rolling her shoulders. She remembered her mother's advice to sing when she was sad. She tried to think of a song, but they all skittered away whenever she neared the melody. Besides, Liv knew that trick, and it wouldn't do for her to hear. If she was even listening. She was probably listening. She always listened. She often talked. But she never said anything.

***

Liv sat in the hard backed chair in the bedroom. She considered the likelihood that anyone had sat on that chair before. Doubtful. It was for show. Like her, she supposed, then shook her head, hard, as though the violent motion would jerk loose the dark, jagged thoughts and let them tumble out her ears. It wasn't like that, she knew, when she took deep breaths and thought rationally.

It wasn't like anything. It just was. She sat up straighter in the chair and tried not to look at the bed.

She ran through her phone book in her head, discarding name after name. What would she say, anyway?

_Come rescue me. I've been sitting upstairs for three minutes._

Had it only been three minutes? Not since . .the silence began. But since the phone had been returned to its cradle, the bags had been tossed onto the porch, and the screen door had creaked shut. Anticlimactic.

All of the nights made sense then, all the nights she had tried not to think about once morning came and the sun drove the chill away.

She heard the rumble of the engine as the car pulled in to the driveway. She did not allow herself to look. She could be in control too, damnit.

Besides, she knew what she would see. Billy would dash up to the porch, grab Miranda's bags, and throw them in the back of the car. Then he would hurry back, meet her where she had started along the path, and guide her to the car with his hand at the small of her back.

And then she would be gone.

Liv listened to the footsteps on the gravel, the slamming of the doors, the engine moving away. She looked at the clock and exhaled slowly, heavily. She hadn't realized she was holding her breath.

 _I can do this,_ she thought. _Control. Five minutes at a time._


End file.
